Wu Heng arrived atop a hill of bones.
He looked down at the locator talisman on his wrist, now completely useless, then raised his head to gaze at this forbidden land where even high-ranking demons were unwilling to linger.
"The place closest to the Abyss," he murmured. "Not a bad choice."
Almost the moment he found his footing, the temporary rift that had dragged him here flickered in the distant sky, swiftly closed, and vanished.
Farther away, several powerful auras stirred covertly. They belonged to the archdemons waiting nearby to ensure the trap had been sealed.
In another direction, a pure yet icy aura of holy light flashed as conspicuously as a lighthouse before vanishing as well.
The watchers of heaven and hell exchanged a glance across the Blood Plains, confirming the success of the first phase of their plan.
To them, the prey had fallen into the deepest prison.
Wu Heng made no attempt to search for a way out, nor did he touch the demon tide wandering in the distance, which did not dare approach due to some dangerous aura emanating from him.
He walked to the sheltered side of the hill, crouched down, and gathered the gray-white power of balance from the glove on his right hand at his fingertips.
He did not attack. Instead, he began drawing a locating and summoning array.
The inscription was quickly completed. Wu Heng pressed his left hand against the edge of the array, closed his eyes, and sank his consciousness deep within, passing through the Balance Gloves' barrier of equilibrium to touch the Abyssal mark carefully concealed within his very essence.
Buzzz—!
The space at the center of the array began to distort, rippling like water struck by a stone. At its center, an exceedingly thin, utterly dark fissure silently